


Slip

by Thursday_Next



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossdressing, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-04
Updated: 2011-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday_Next/pseuds/Thursday_Next
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the point where Merlin's supposed to say 'how do you like my Halloween costume' or 'hey, I got that part in that play'. But he doesn't. He doesn't, and the implications of that wash over Arthur like a wave of heat.</p><p>Or, my first and probably only attempt at a pwp for this fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slip

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kinkspiration round 2: crossdressing on livejournal

Arthur bounds up the stairs two at a time, slips his key into the lock and pushes hurriedly through the door.

"Sorry," he calls out, "Forgot my..."

He stops, staring open-mouthed at the sight in front of him.

Merlin is wearing a dress.

Arthur closes the door quickly behind him, not taking his eyes off of his room-mate for a second. It's barely even a dress, now that he looks at it, just a slip of sheer black fabric which barely skims the tops of Merlin's unshaven thighs. His eyes travel downwards, taking in black stockings and a pair of fairly torturous looking heels. Merlin is frozen, one hand clutched around a red lipstick paused half-way to his lips, staring back at Arthur like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

This is the point where Merlin's supposed to say 'how do you like my Halloween costume' or 'hey, I got that part in that play'. But he doesn't. He doesn't, and the implications of that wash over Arthur like a wave of heat.

"Arthur. I..." Merlin flushes, pink with embarrassment. Arthur's seen him in less than this, and thought nothing of it, they share a room, after all, they've seen each other wrapped in only a towel from the shower, or stripping down to change with politely averted eyes. But this, this is something altogether different. Arthur suddenly feels that there's not enough air in his lungs. He licks his lips as he looks Merlin up and down once more, slowly, deliberately, then reaches behind himself to lock the door and takes two steps forward.

"You're beautiful," he says, voice low and a little hoarse. Merlin shifts uncomfortably, cheeks darkening, and there's anger along with the embarrassment.

"Don't take the piss," he says defensively, crossing his arms over his chest, although that does nothing but hitch the material up a little, revealing more of the pale skin of his thighs and drawing attention to the bulge the satin knickers are doing little to conceal. Christ, Arthur thinks, Merlin is getting hard just from being looked at like this.

"I wouldn't," Arthur promises, although they both know that's a lie – mutual piss-taking has pretty much been the foundation of their relationship for the few months they've known each other. "I'm not, you... you're..." Arthur isn't sure he has the words in his vocabulary for this. Gently, he pries the lipstick from Merlin's hand, twists it, and slowly, carefully finishes painting Merlin's lips. Merlin is trembling a little, whether from shame or desire or a nervous combination of the two, Arthur can't tell. "There," he says softly when he's done. "You look so pretty." He rocks back on his heels, admiring his handiwork. He wants to mess it up already, imagining smearing the red stain with his fingers, his lips, his cock. He lifts one hand to Merlin's cheek.

"Fuck you," Merlin flinches away. "I'm not a girl, you know."

"I know," Arthur says. And fuck, as if that isn't the hottest thing about all of this, the contrast between the flimsy, femimine attire and the unmistakeable masculinity of his body, the dark hair on his thighs, the flatness of his chest, his angular hips, the way the jut of his cock distends the smooth lines of the material. Arthur lets the back of his hand brush gently against Merlin's erection, no intent in the touch beyond proving the truth of his words. Merlin hisses, a sharp intake of breath and when Arthur looks up at him, he's blinking rapidly.

"You like girls," Merlin protests, his breathing shallow as Arthur curls one hand around his hip. " _I_ like girls." He stares, helpless, in the direction of the mirror and Arthur shifts so he's standing behind him, pressed against his back. Merlin's taller than him, especially in these heels, but Arthur can still rest his chin on Merlin's shoulder, watch him shiver as his breath fans over his collarbone. There's something between want and panic in his voice, caught by his own fantasy now that it is more real than he probably imagined. Arthur pinches one of his nipples, rolls it around between his finger and thumb until it's hard as a pebble, and is rewarded with a gasp and the sight of Merlin's eyelids shuttering, lashes brushing softly against his flushed cheeks.

"I like you," Arthur says firmly. "And I think you want someone to take care of you, don't you, sweetheart?" Merlin snorts at this, but he doesn't pull away.

"I thought I was usually the one taking care of your sorry football-playing arse when you've had one too many," he says. Arthur swallows a little at the thought of just how Merlin could take care of his 'sorry football-playing arse', imagines being bent over a table while Merlin takes him, still dressed like this. He slides his hands up underneath the skirt of Merlin's outfit, slipping his fingers into the silky black material at the sides of his underwear and pulling until Merlin gasps.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Merlin," he teases, angling his hips so that his own erection brushes against Merlin's arse, leaving him in no doubt of just how much this situation is turning him on. "I'm going to take care of you. Properly." He rolls his hips again and Merlin closes his eyes, head falling back. Arthur takes advantage of the opportunity to nuzzle at his neck. "Sweetheart," he repeats, because he likes the way it makes Merlin squirm. He slips his hand down, toying with the clinging material, stifling a groan as he feels a slickness beneath his fingers. He's unable to wait any longer, then, reaching for his own belt, fumbling with the zip until he frees his cock, lets it nestle against the smooth satin still covering Merlin's backside. He groans. "There are just so many things I want to do to you, you beautiful thing."

"Arthur," Merlin all but whimpers, no trace of the cockiness he'd displayed just minutes before. "I... I haven't... I've never, with a man."

"It's ok," Arthur says, slipping one arm around his waist to hold him close. "We don't have to do anything you don't want." He presses down on Merlin's cock, squeezing a little. "Can I touch you?" he asks, breathing erratic, "Would you like that?"

"Please," Merlin answers, bucking his hips up to meet Arthur's hand.

"On your knees," Arthur orders, voice rough, not sure how much longer he can possibly last. Merlin obeys, and Arthur pulls his head round for a quick kiss, tasting lipstick and orange, before pushing him down and curling his hand around his length once more, Merlin moans as he strokes him and Arthur finds himself rutting helplessly against him. He catches a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror and the sight is almost enough to make him come right away. He curls his free hand around Merlin's exposed throat. "Look," he says, "Look at you, you beautiful fucking thing." Merlin cries out, and from then on Arthur can't think, it's all sensation; he pumps Merlin harder and harder as he finds himself sliding against his back, impossible to find a rhythm, messy and urgent until Merlin comes and the sight of that, of him on his knees, thoroughly debauched, his outfit rucked up and tangled and covered in come, is enough to push Arthur over the edge.

They stay like that, panting hard, neither quite sure what to say, until their eyes meet in the mirror. Merlin shudders and crawls away, eyes darting around as if looking for something to cover himself up with. Arthur recovers quicker, pulling his jeans up. He sprints to the wardrobe and grabs a dressing gown, wrapping it loosely around a surprised Merlin's shoulders and pulling him over to the nearest bed so they're sitting side by side.

"Here," he says tenderly, rearranging Merlin's dressing gown for him. "We should get you a prettier one," he says absently, frowning at the rough towelling material beneath his hand. Merlin stiffens then, and blinks up at him.

"What?" he says, confused and sex-addled and adorable.

"A prettier gown," Arthur explains. "And another one of these, perhaps," he continues, fingering the material of Merlin's lingerie once more. "We made a bit of a mess of this one."

"You... you'd really want...?" Merlin trails off, swallowing. Arthur can't help but stare at the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat at the motion.

"Oh, sweetheart," Arthur says, running one hand through Merlin's hair, "There are so many things I want."

Merlin shifts, then, curling up until he's half-lying in Arthur's lap.

"Yeah," he says, "Yeah, me too."


End file.
